caught up in the crossfire
by great gospel
Summary: And if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, she swore to follow him right into the thick of it, now didn't she? — Royai Week, Day 7: Choices


_caught up in the crossfire_

 **Word Count** : 662

 **Timeline/Spoilers** : sometime after the move to Central; slight spoilers for Hawkeye and Mustang's pasts

 **Summary** : And if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, she swore to follow him right into the thick of it, now didn't she? — Royai Week, Day 7: Choices

 **Notes** : I can't believe we're done! I managed to write these seven fics I the space of one week a couple weeks ago. So glad I was finally able to share them all with you.

Inspired by the songs _Antebellum_ by Vienna Teng and _Crossfire_ by Brandon Flowers and the quote below.

* * *

" _Thank you for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war."_

– Nikita Gil

* * *

It's not a conscious decision – falling in love, that is – but neither does she attribute it to something so flimsy as fate. It isn't as if she woke up one day and elected to place her heart in the care of one Roy Mustang. But, given half a chance, she'd do it all the same. It's safe with him, she knows, and _safe_ isn't a concept taken lightly by soldiers, especially those of her caliber and with their track record. She is resolute in this decision.

Not to say she hasn't wavered with some of her choices in the past. Her feelings on flame alchemy are complicated, knowing what havoc it can wreak as well as what a saving grace it can be. But she won't change her mind on the fact that there can never be another flame alchemist. The secret will die with her and Roy. No matter the atrocities they committed, they won't take the easy way out and say they were simply under someone else's commands. It's the only way most soldiers can face up to what they've done, or the idea that it was for the greater good. She spits on that sentiment. The only goal of the Ishbal Civil War was the slaughtering of countless innocents, and in that respect, it was a rousing success.

But she and Roy will never shy away from their role in it. Perhaps nothing they do can ever fully atone for it, but in order to allow for a new generation to enjoy good fortune, then the price that they must pay is to carry the bodies of the dead across a river of blood. If it means dying like a piece of trash on the side of the road, or being tried for their offenses as war criminals, then it is their duty to follow through. Call it equivalent exchange, call it justice, Riza doesn't give a damn.

She knows she doesn't deserve anyone's pity or sympathy. Even cocooned in the arms of her partner, she realizes that they are unworthy of even one another. (Or perhaps they are the only people who could ever deserve each other.) People like them, with their killers' eyes and murders in cold blood should never be allowed to feel the warmth of another human body, to feel affection amongst comrades, to feel that incessant swirling in their guts that somehow signifies love.

So they etch border lines in the sand, each knowing they shouldn't carry on this way but still unable to turn their backs to the dust. Not only are they undeserving, but it is exceedingly dangerous, as they advance closer to the top and start to catch whiffs of conspiracy. And yet it can't stop the pumping in her heart, the throbbing in her veins. She needs Roy Mustang like the Earth needs the sunlight; he's drawn to her like a moth to a flame. They're a ticking time bomb waiting to burst, and their enemies gather like seeing lambs off to the slaughter.

It's foolish and unsafe, but she can't help but be thankful for it all the same. If there's anything keeping her from succumbing to the guilt and shame, it's a dream declared in the light of antebellum innocence. She doesn't know where they'd be if they had made different choices – if they hadn't become soldiers, if he hadn't pursued alchemy. What she does know is that they fight a losing battle each time they pull away from one another. She wants to call for an armistice, but she doesn't know how. So, instead, they'll carry on with their push and pull, drawing and redrawing their streaks in the sand, all the while appreciating what desert wind does to it, because she knows that Roy Mustang is the one choice she'll never regret.

And if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, she swore to follow him right into the thick of it, now didn't she?

* * *

" _I know the border lines we drew between us  
Keep the weapons down,  
Keep the wounded safe;  
I know our antebellum innocence  
Was never meant to see the light of our armistice day."_

– Vienna Teng

* * *

 **Notes** : Writing this was very spur-of-the-moment, but I actually like how it turned out. Let me know what you think! I hope you've all had a wonderful Royai Week! :)


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